A Promise and a Threat
by Sidonie Greene
Summary: Terra's had two years to decide what to say to Solas. But nothing could have prepared her for his last revelation. [One-shot practice for NaNoWriMo 2015, based on the dialogue prompt, "I felt, suddenly, that the center of this man's attention was a very bad place to be."]


Terra stumbled through the eluvian, hearing the glass shatter behind her. A frantic glance over her shoulder confirmed: the eluvian was inactive.

 _No way back,_ she thought darkly, before turning and coming face to face with one of the Viddasala's men with his axe raised high. She scrambled back, losing her footing on the loose rocks and throwing her hands back to catch her. The Anchor protested painfully as she closed her eyes and pressed herself back against the broken mirror, bracing herself for the inevitable.

When the inevitable didn't come, she risked a curious glance at the Qunari before her. Realization dawned. _He's been turned to stone,_ Terra thought, momentarily forgetting the pain in her hand as she pushed herself up into a standing position. Circling around the qunari, she gasped at the small stone army behind it. _The Viddasala's men… but how?_

She didn't have much time to wonder. The Viddasala's angry voice carried across the broken landscape from her position atop the stone steps that lay beyond her ruined army.

"Maraas kata!" came her cry, voice tinged with anger and panic.

"Your forces have failed," a smooth voice replied, "Leave now and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further."

Terra hurried up the broken stairs and was met with the sight of the Viddasala raising her spear in one final attempt to dispatch her quarry. A single, frustrated yell was all the Viddasala managed before she met the same fate as the rest of her men. But Terra wasn't here for her.

"Solas."

The man before her turned. Cold, violet eyes met Terra's, and she shrank back. Terra felt, suddenly, that the center of this man's attention was a very bad place to be. Before she could utter another word, the simmering pain in her left hand sharpened, and she gasped. _Not now!_ Terra screamed internally as the pain brought her to her knees. Green sparks crackled sharply over the skin of her arm and hand as she felt every nerve ending in her body catch fire. Wordless gasps and shrieks escaped her mouth as she clutched at her hand, trying in vain to hold the Anchor's power back, and then…

Solas' eyes flickered and filled with light, and the pain abated immediately. Terra's stomach turned as she considered the power Solas wielded. Two years ago, she never would've questioned it– Solas was dedicated to her as well as their cause. But now…

She stumbled to her feet, reaching for her bow.

"That should give us more time. I suspect you have questions.''

Solas' voice was soft, his expression almost amused. Terra cast a cautious look at him before replying.

"The Qunari were trying to kill you. I wanted to get here first."

She wasn't sure whether the words were a threat or not, but Solas' amused expression remained as he spoke again.

"I know. They sought an agent of Fen'Harel. I am no one's agent but my own. I fear that the truth is much simpler, and much worse than the Qunari believe…"

Terra's expression hardened. "You're Fen'Harel."

Solas shifted to stand at attention, his face kept carefully neutral, voice even.

"I was Solas first. 'Fen'Harel' came later– an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies… not unlike 'Inquisitor', I suppose." His eyebrows drew together, and his visage carried a hint of mourning. "What is the old Dalish curse? 'May the Dread Wolf take you'?"

Terra finally met Solas' eyes. They were filled with regret, which did nothing to soften her next words:

"And so he did."

If Solas was taken aback, his face betrayed nothing. "I did not. I would not lay with you under false pretenses."

Anger flickered through Terra's ribcage, and she could feel the Anchor latching onto it, feeding off of it. They would not have much longer now, but she was not finished with Solas yet.

"But you _lied_ to me. I loved you! Did you really think I wouldn't understand?"

"Ir abelas, vhenan–" Solas began.

"Tel'abelas! Whatever happened between us has ended, Solas. Speak no more of it."

"…as you wish. You've earned your anger. But I am not the monster the Dalish painted."

"And the legends?" Terra asked bitterly.

Solas turned towards the eluvian behind him, this one alive and humming with energy. Terra regarded it with distrust as she followed Solas to the cliff's edge behind it. She stopped a few steps short, and drew her bow, keeping it trained on the back of Solas' head.

"That will not be necessary, my love." Solas cast a knowing glance over his shoulder, and when Terra made no move to lower her weapon, he turned back to study the scenery before him.

"I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me. The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the Veil and banished them forever. Thus, I freed the elven people… and in so doing, destroyed their world."

Terra's head spun with questions. _Solas created the veil? Why separate the elves, much less the world from the source of magic? If he banished the gods, how did Mythal escape? If… if he is the Dread Wolf, does this mean all the gods were all mortal, once?_ Never one to neglect her curiosity, she pushed aside the pain in her left hand and posed her questions to Solas.

The familiarity of their situation brought a measure of comfort to Terra. Solas seemed to relax as he adopted the same scholarly tone he used whenever Terra plied him with questions about the Fade. As Solas waxed poetic about the murder of Mythal, and the greed of the Evanuris. His voice became tinged with remorse as he described the fall of the elves, and Terra found herself feeling sorry for the broken man before her…

"…your legends are half right. We were immortal. It was not the arrival of humans that caused us to begin aging…"

Solas turned to face her again.

"…it was me."

Terra didn't even notice that she no longer had an arrow nocked.

"The Veil took everything from the elves. Even themselves."

Terra nearly reached out to touch Solas' shoulder, but stopped as the pain in her hand sharpened. Clenching her fist, she ground out, "That's the past. What about the future?"

Solas began pacing, his face thoughtful.

"i lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke, still weak, a year before I met you." He turned to face the eluvian again. "My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still, some hope still remains for restoration…" His voice took on a tone of determination.

"I _will_ save the elven people, even if this world must die."

Terra's eyes widened. "You're going to destroy this world?"

Remorse creeped back into Solas' voice. "Not happily."

"I'll have to stop you." Terra's words were both a promise and a threat, and she raised her bow again, arrow trained on Solas' back. _If he thinks he's going to undo all our hard work, all our efforts to save this world from itself... he's even more unstable than the legends implied._

Solas bowed his head. "I know you will try." He pivoted on his heel, standing at attention, his back to the eluvian. His tone became formal, withdrawn. "It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. _Your_ Inquisition. In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, the will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace."

Terra's hand sparked painfully again, and she flexed it carefully, arrow wavering from it's target. "There's still the matter of the Anchor," she began, realizing their time together was drawing to an end, "It's getting worse." Something twinged painfully in her chest, and she forced back the lump in her throat. Old feelings had no place in the here and now. And yet... _Solas. If only you weren't a threat._

Solas' expression softened. "I know, vhenan," he said gently, "I'm sorry. And we are running out of time."

As if on cue, the mark flared back to life across Terra's palm. Startled, she released the bowstring, and then her bow. The arrow she had nocked stopped a few inches from Solas' face, his eyes shifting colors again as it dropped harmlessly to the ground.

The pain slammed into Terra full force, curling around every nerve ending in her body and bringing her to her knees. She cried out, instinctively reaching her good hand out to her former lover, before drawing it back to clutch at the Anchor. Wordless gasps and screams were all that escaped her mouth– she couldn't have asked for help if she tried.

"The mark will eventually kill you," Terra hadn't even noticed that Solas was crouching before her. "Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you," resignation flickered across Solas' face, "… at least for now."

"Solas," Terra struggled to speak past the pain, "You don't need to destroy this world. I'll prove it to you."

Solas stood, his lean frame towering over Terra once again. "I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my love."

Terra curled in on herself, forehead nearly touching the ground, left hand proffered towards Solas as though in supplication. She vaguely considered releasing the Anchor's power and succumbing to her fate. _If dying means saving the world from Sol–the Dread Wolf, surely I can justify my sacrifice._ She mourned briefly as she considered how her friends would take the loss, particularly a certain blond commander. She had nearly made up her mind when a fresh wave of sparks washed over her, causing her muscles to spasm violently and breaking her concentration.

Before Terra could gather her thoughts once more, Solas made her decision for her.

"Take my hand," he pleaded. When she made no move to offer the mark to him, he bent and wrenched her hand up towards him. "I'm sorry," he said simply, clenching his free hand into a fist and bringing it sharply down, glowing with magic Terra had never seen before.

"I will never forget you." Solas met Terra's gaze, and if she had not been half-delirious with pain she could have swore that tears hovered in the corners of his eyes. "Live well, vhenan, while time remains," he continued, releasing her hand and stepping back. When it became clear that Terra had no more to say to him, he turned, stepping gracefully through the eluvian.

Green sparks still flared brightly over Terra's left palm, but they no longer hurt. Terra instinctively thanked Mythal before frowning at her mistake. _Thanking a mortal, old, wrinkled woman… Morrigan's mother, no less!_ She nearly smirked before realizing that something was amiss. She no longer felt pain in her left arm, certainly, nor could she feel… anything.

Terra shot to her feet in a panic, trying and failing to remove her leather glove to get at the Anchor. She looked around frantically as the numbness continued to spread from her hand to the rest of her arm. Her hand was no longer simply numb, it was _cold,_ and she had no idea if it would continue to spread to the rest of her body.

Her eyes alighted on the eluvian she had stumbled through a short distance away. It was active again, and her thoughts immediately flew to the people on the other side. If Dorian or Vivienne could not fix it, at least Bull could carry her back to the Winter Palace.

What had seemed an easy distance to cross before seemed to stretch for miles, now. While Terra's mind screamed at the rest of her to _get to the mirror,_ her body seemed content to amble slowly, stumbling over every loose stone and step. The cold spread slowly through her shoulders, and then her chest. _If it reaches my legs, I'll never get out of here._

She pushed those thoughts aside, but when she reached the Viddasala's stone army, the cold had reached her hips. By the time she reached the Qunari frozen directly in front of the eluvian, the cold had claimed her knees and calves as well. She collapsed in front of the mirror, her now useless left hand and arm dipping through the portal. Her head came to rest on the worn stone beneath her, eyes roaming slowly until her gaze lit upon a small stone statue. _The Dread Wolf,_ she thought bitterly, and started to curse him before realizing that Dalish curses would no longer suffice.

She heard a clamoring from the mirror, first the Iron Bull's roar and then Dorian and Vivienne's bickering voices. Her vision grew dim, and the voices sounded further away than they had a moment ago. Still, she focused on the statue, wracking her memory for a curse adequate for Solas' grand betrayal.

 _Solas… Dread Wolf,_ she thought as her eyes flickered shut, _the Fade take you._

 _If it does not, I will._


End file.
